Most Nights
by deardeer
Summary: Out of them all, Bolin has the worst time falling-and staying-asleep.


_there are some nights I hold you close, pushing you to hold me,  
begging you to lock me up, never let me see the world.  
some nights, I live in horror of people on the radio..._

_there are some nights I wait for someone to save us,  
but I never look inward, try not to look upward,  
and some nights I pray a sign is gonna come to me,  
but usually, I'm just trying to get some sleep.  
_

{ _Some_ Nights (Intro) - fun. }

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He opens his eyes.

The darkness on Air Temple Island is different than the one in the probending arena attic. Where the attic was all musky yellow and brown, the darkness in his room is a soft blue, a reflection of the water that surrounded him.

Bolin sits up with a sigh, mussing his hair. Beside him, Pabu's lifts his head, quirking it to the side like the adorable fire ferret he is. Bolin gives a small chuckle, scratching Pabu's chin. The fire ferret chirps with contentment.

"Up for another story, buddy?" Bolin says, lifting Pabu into his lap. "This one's not as bad as the last ones, but even if you're scared, don't worry. Bolin's got ya."

Ever since he had been captured by Amon—he still shudders at the name—Bolin keeps having nightmares. He's taught himself to wake up from them slowly now, without a fuss, so Mako doesn't wake up too and tell him it was just a dream and go back to sleep, they were safe, and they had a big day ahead of them.

But the images aren't that easy to escape. They flicker behind his eyelids, spin through his mind like a broken movie reel. And they're not just of Amon capturing him, but Amon capturing Tenzin, former Chief Beifong, Mako. Korra. Taking away their bending. And every once in a while, Amon will take Bolin's face in his hands, his bony, calloused fingers digging into Bolin's cheeks, and demand, "Isn't this what you want? Retribution for the firebender who stole your parents?"

No matter how foggy the dreams become, the feeling of fear and being unable to escape is always there, lingering. More than once, Bolin has woken up—quietly, of course—with his face damp with tears he can't remember. He's found some comfort in telling Pabu the majority of his nightmares—the recurring ones, at least—but Pabu can only understand so much.

Pabu has already fallen back asleep. Deciding not to wake the little guy again, Bolin carefully rolls Pabu onto his pillow and gets up. A walk will do him so good. The air on the island is much cleaner than in the city. Maybe it'll clear his head better.

Bolin opens his window and slips out. He has heavy footsteps and walking across all those wooden floorboards would wake the entire compound. On the earth, though, he's much quieter, smoother. He can feel every shift of dirt beneath his feet. It's a different feeling than when he's probending, and he wonders if he isn't missing out by not practicing those traditional earthbending moves he sees on the old black and white films Mako used to sneak them into. Regardless, there's no time for formal training now. Amon's attacks have become increasingly more aggressive, putting more and more benders at risk. Bolin would have to do with what he has, even if it isn't much.

He'll manage. He and Mako always have. And now, especially with Korra, the new Team Avatar will triumph.

He's made it halfway around the island when he notices a light. It comes from, if he's not mistaken, one of the rooms on the women's compound. Bolin knows in his gut it's not appropriate to go up to it, but he can't help sneaking up to the window when he hears Korra's soft voice floating into the night.

Bolin doesn't look inside, if that makes a difference. He tiptoes through the bushes and sits beneath the window, listening to Korra talk. He doesn't hear words—she's too far away for him to make sense of anything she says—and doesn't know who she's talking to, but it's comforting anyway. It reminds him of when he was little, standing outside the light of the living room and needing to tell his father he was too scared to fall asleep, but too embarrassed to admit that he needed help, so he would linger, listening to the late night news and watching the light on the ground flicker as the images on the TV change and taking simple comfort in having someone to protect him, just around the corner.

He'd almost forgotten how it feels to be small.

But Korra is one of the strongest, kindest, bravest, most capable and headstrong people he knows. He trusts her. So there, amongst the thick smell of healthy soil and early morning dew and the sound of Korra's voice, Bolin finds comfort. With Korra so close to him, he is safe.

Everything around him is a soft blue, a reflection of the moon against the water as he listens to her mumbling. He closes his eyes. Despite—or perhaps because of—his circumstances, that night Bolin sleeps better than he has in weeks.


End file.
